A Rose for Vengeance
by Ellynne
Summary: Rumple came to lay a rose on Belle's grave. Then, he thought of a better use for Gaston. The first in a RUmbelle AU series.


It felt a little like waking up after a long sleep, unable to clearly remember what he'd been doing before falling into bed. Except, he wasn't in bed. He was crouched on a small, grassy mound in front of a stone. No, not a stone. A grave marker.

_Lady Belle_

_Savior_

_Beloved Daughter _

"_Let her soul be cleansed_

_Of the monster's taint"_

Gaston recognized the quote, of course. It was part of the Ballad of Dove Isabeau, a popular tale in Avonlea. It told the story of a princess transformed into a hideous beast till her true love can free her from the curse. But, that was not how they meant it, here.

Belle. Dead. Rumplestiltskin had killed her.

Gaston reached out to the stone, tracing the letters. It was real.

He had failed her.

He started to get up, then stumbled, sprawling onto all fours. It felt as though his feet had fallen asleep. He looked down and saw—

They were gone. His legs ended a bit above the ankles. There was nothing further. It wasn't real, he told himself. It couldn't be. This was like some dream. There wasn't any blood or sign of injury, not even any pain.

"Careful, dearie," a familiar voice giggled. "You wouldn't want to hurt yourself. Not more than you already are."

Gaston turned and saw the demon imp behind him. Rumplestiltskin was grinning, his eyes shining with madness.

Gaston remembered finding his way to the beast's castle, showing up at the gate with his sword drawn, ready to fight for Belle's freedom. The monster had laughed and snapped his fingers. That was the last thing Gaston remembered before waking here.

"Beast! What did you do to me? What did you do to _her?_"

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. "_I _did nothing. Except assume these lands were inhabited by something other than blind idiots and murderers. As for your feet, it's a very funny story. Not that I suppose you'd see the humor in it.

"No, I just came to lay roses on my lady's grave. And, then, I thought 'Why stop there?' Especially when the rose in question may be brainless but knows how to use his thorns."

Rumplestiltskin could tangle people up with words. It was the one thing Gaston had learned when he met him, so he didn't even try to make sense of the taunt. He might not be able to get up off the ground, but he still had his sword. "Monster, you'll pay for what you did to her—" He pulled it out and tried to stab the imp, who simply danced out of the blade's way.

"Take it from someone with experience, dearie, a lame man _doesn't_ want to be getting into sword fights. It never works out in his favor—"

"Murderer!" he slashed at him, missing again.

"Tell me, how is it Belle didn't die of boredom while she was betrothed to you? It's been less than five minutes, and I'm already teetering on the edge—"

"Deal-breaker!" Gaston yelled, trying to hit him again.

Rumplestiltskin vanished in a puff of purple smoke, reappearing standing astraddle over him. He grabbed Gaston's sword hand, locking it in his grip, and plucked the sword away from him as easily as if he'd been a child. "_Enough_. I didn't kill the Lady Belle. And I didn't break our deal, either. I freed her from her obligation to me. A housekeeper seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'd forgotten how _tedious _you mortals can be.

"But, your good, honest folk didn't appreciate the gesture. Apparently, they considered her _tainted_. By the monster. They drove her to her death."

"You're lying! Lord Maurice would never allow—"

"Lord Maurice summoned the clerics to cleanse her himself. My deal forbids me from dealing with this as I ought. Belle was _mine_, not theirs. By rights, I ought to hunt down every man who hurt her and let him spend the next few centuries learning what slow, torturous death is really about. But," he snarled the words like an animal, "I promised _not_ to. I promised _her._

"You, on the other hand, have made no such vow. And, whatever happened, you were the only one of the cretins brave enough to try and save Belle—even if waving a sword in the Dark One's face while standing at his doorway has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever seen. How did you think that would work out?

"Her blood isn't on your hands, and I have decided to reward your stalwart heart and general idiocy. Oh, and give you your feet back." He waved a negligent hand while stepping away from Gaston. He saw boots back at the end of his leggings and felt his toes when he wiggled them. "If you want to _keep_ them," Rumplestiltskin said, "you'll listen while I explain the conditions."

Gaston got up slowly, uncertain what honor demanded. He probably _should_ try and get his sword back and run his enemy through. But, Rumplestiltskin had already defeated him—and had demanded he listen rather than just kill him. Reluctantly, he decided probably was obliged to obey the request.

"You are my weapon of vengeance," the imp said cheerfully. "You were the lady's betrothed. You have a perfect right to hunt down her murderers. And I am going to help you do it."

"Why should I believe I'm not looking at her murderer right now?"

"_That's_ what I'm going to help you with. You need some way to tell the guilty from the—well, I doubt there are any innocents in this kingdom. Let us call them the-not-so-_tainted._" The creature snarled the last word. Then, he was all bright eyes and smiles—if you could call anything with so many teeth a smile.

"Lord Maurice is my liege. I won't harm him no matter what lies you spin. And why should I trust anything your magic tells me?"

"Oh, goodie, you're going to leave Lord Maurice for me. As for the rest of your worries, it won't be my magic telling you. It won't be magic at all. Not really." Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and a purple cloud surrounded Gaston.

_This had happened before,_ he remembered. _At the castle when I challenged him. Or tried to challenge him. _He remembered he hadn't gotten out half of the speech he'd prepared.

The mist dissipated. Gaston found himself once more on all fours on the ground. But, he wasn't kneeling.

He looked down at limbs that looked like they were carved from black stone. They ended in the clawed paws of a beast.

Rumplestiltskin circled around him, inspecting his work. "Yes," he said. "You'll do. Body of iron and stone, big as a horse, ugly as sin—rather an improvement, if you ask me. And freakishly large as ever. These are the rules. You can take your human form but only during the hours of the day. It won't be easy to do and it won't be easy to maintain. But, it _will_ get easier for each one of Belle's persecutors you hunt down. You may kill them if you're in a merciful mood. Or bring them to me if you're not."

The imp had said he wasn't able to kill Belle's persecutors, as he called them. What could he do if Gaston brought them to him? He tried to ask, but could only make a curious, whining sound.

Rumplestiltskin apparently understood. He rolled his eyes. It seemed to be his response to most of the things Gaston could say. "I won't be hunting them down. Or killing them. If a stray dog brings bones to my yard, I'm certainly allowed to bury them. You'll know the guilty ones because, in this form, you'll smell her blood on them. Don't ask stupid questions about how you'll know it's hers. Your mind has already adapted to this form. If you think back to your memories of Belle, the scent of her will be there with them.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not that complicated. It's the same way you know how to talk even if you don't remember learning how to do it. Not that you ever worked at it very hard, judging by our conversation. Never mind. Go out and hunt them. When they're all dead or in my hands, I'll turn you back to yourself—with feet. You get to keep those.

"Now, go out and have fun. And feel free to piddle on your enemies' graves. You may as well enjoy the privileges that come with being a demon dog."


End file.
